


Flowers

by AirSteps



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Harley Quinn (Comics), Poison Ivy (Comics)
Genre: F/F, Flowers, Harleyivyweek, idk this is bad but I'm behind lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 21:30:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8118232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirSteps/pseuds/AirSteps
Summary: For HarleyIvy week day 5 - Flowers





	

**Author's Note:**

> My poem would have been PERFECT for this prompt, what a shame I ve already written it XD idek if this makes any sense, because it's very sketchy and works around things that happen inbetween. 
> 
> ANYWAY some more Harley and Ivy for ya, I should have put these harleyivyweek thungs in one document buuuuttt I didn't know I was gonna write more fics so *shrug emoji* 
> 
> Tell me what you think !

Someone once said, "Flowers are a perfect replica of human life . . . . planting . . . growth . . . . bloom . . . . withering."   
Perhaps the Victorians had the right idea- You can say so much with flowers. Which can be a good thing, when words fail you. 

The first flower Harley left was a rose - dark pink, a cut stem with the thorns left on because she didn't know that to cut a rose was to kill it.   
It's not an obvious thing, unless you're a woman made of plants. 

Pamela's hands bled as she crushed the rose between her fingers- it was dying, anyway. 

She didn't know why she had saved Harley. She didn't know that Harley somehow had saved her. 

 

The second was a purple hyacinth, still in its pot, left on her doorstep with a small label that spoke in a whisper "for red. I'm sorry" written between patches of faded ink which were once tears.   
Pam had known Harley wouldn't stay, but she had hoped hard enough that she made herself believe it. 

The third was passed to her over a breakfast of burned toast and scrambled egg- a rooted bouquet of yellow lilies, morning glory and baby's breath, a bright little thing that spread pollen on Harley's nose and made her sneeze and Pamela laugh,   
And for a while, everything was okay. 

The fourth flower was already dead; a smashed vase with the crushed roots and petals of carnations in all the colours nestled among the dead leaves of autumn - Pamela tried to save them, but they didn't respond even to her gentle touch.   
She buried them in the garden, along with the shatters of glass that sang as she gathered them, a distant, broken vocal chord of a screaming that only a flower could hear. 

The fifth and sixth could almost have been missed, a handful of the first apple blossom of spring, shaken from a branch above Pamela's head, while Harley balances, leaning harder on the branch, giggles at the specks of white falling in Pamela's face.   
If Harley was a flower, she would be one of the buttercups in the field Pamela sits in, playful and childish, but as bright as the sun. 

The last was a single rose, but it was nothing like the first. It still grew, held by the pale hands that had somehow managed to find a rose without killing it.   
It was strong, pure, and spoke of the small hours of the night where only whispers passed from drowsy lips, and the soft touch of green fingers traces patterns on Harley's skin.   
Harley held it nervously, biting her lip and drawing blood with her teeth like a thorn on a the stem of a rose. 

Pamela smiled, taking the plant carefully and holding its petals between her fingers, setting it down with a sound that was like a sudden realisation of everything up until this moment.   
Harley held her breath as Pam's lips crashed against hers, with the soft delicate rose-scented promise she made 

"I love you, too"


End file.
